


Next Of Kin

by JamieJJP (TriggerJones)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Enganged!Reader, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hexed!Dean, slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriggerJones/pseuds/JamieJJP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You convince Dean to let you go with him and Sam to hunt a witch. They have you stake out a bar, and when you get back to the motel, you see something that changes your relationship drastically.<br/>Four months later, after not having seen either of them since, you get into an accident, and the hospital has to call your next of kin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Next Of Kin

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Dean asked as you were sat on the edge of your bed, lacing up your boots.

You looked up at him, tucking your bangs behind your ear, and smiled, “I’m sure.”

“Witches can be…” he paused, sighing as he tried to choose the right words, “Witches are ruthless. They can make people do things, make people say things, they can really hurt people, you know? One little spell, one hex bag, and you can change completely.”

You stood and wrapped your arms around him, “And that’s why we have to go and kill the bitch.”

Dean hugged you back, “I know. But if you wanted to hang back, that’d be okay. We wouldn’t be mad.”

“Dean, I can handle it,” you promised, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “I’ve hunted with you for a while, it’s time to get a witch under my belt.”

He placed a kiss to your forehead and stepped out of the embrace.

“Okay. But I’m going to be looking out for you the entire time,” he assured you, “And if you panic and I’m not there, you’ve got to call Cas. Or Balthazar. You know what, even Gabe if the others don’t help you.”

“Dean,” you sighed, “I’ll be fine. But yes, if you want me to, I’ll call in angel backup.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, picking up his duffle and your own, “Let’s get a move on, then.”

You grinned back and made your way out to the hallway, heading for the garage.

“I love you,” Dean said, casually, as you were walking up the stairs, “Just so you know.”

Your heart fluttered and your cheeks flushed like they did every time you heard those words from the older Winchester, but you didn’t stop to look at him.

Instead, you shrugged, pretending it didn’t affect you, “You’re alright, I suppose.”

He laughed as you walked into the garage, deliberately hitting your shoulder with your bags before he opened the trunk and threw them in.

“Kidding,” you smiled, “I love you too, you big doof.”

“I’m glad,” he told you, catching your arm and pulling you in for a kiss.

The sound of Baby’s horn broke you apart, followed by a shout of annoyance from Sam.

You laughed, pulling away from him.

“You ready?” he asked with a smile.

“As I’ll ever be,” you nodded, getting into the back of the car, only to be greeted with a disgruntled Sam.

“I hope nobody else died while you were too busy making out with my brother,” he grumbled from the passenger seat.

“Don’t be a dick, Sammy,” Dean sighed, sliding in behind the wheel.

Sam responded, obviously just in a shitty mood, “Now can we just get going?”

“Only if you stop pouting like a little bitch,” Dean said, resolutely folding his arms, keeping his hands off of the wheel.

“You’re such a jerk,” Sam sighed, “Fine. Sorry. Let’s go.”

Dean nodded, grabbing the wheel again and starting the ignition, “Now apologise to Y/N.”

Sam groaned, turning in his seat to face you.

“Sorry for being a little bitch,” he told you, a tired look on his face.

“S’alright,” you grinned, “Let’s get a move on then, Dean-o.”

Sam smiled appreciatively as Dean finally put the impala into drive, starting the long journey to destination ‘Gank that Witch’.

 

* * *

 

“So, we’ve got a lead,” Sam told you, handing you a beer as he took his seat at the bar, “But you’re not going to like what you’ve got to do.”

You sighed, “Just tell me.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, urging him to break the news for him.

“Um, you kind of just have to stay back,” Dean said, awkwardly, interrupting you when you tried to protest, “I swear I’m not just saying it to try and protect you. We need you to stay at the bar.”

“What the fuck?” you asked, angrily, “How’s that supposed to help you? I was meant to be helping you get a witch, and now I’m just hanging back here?”

“Keep your voice down,” Sam warned, noting the odd looks that you got from the other patrons at the mention of a ‘witch’, “And you will be helping.”

“How?” you hissed.

“Because,” Dean began, trying to calm you down with his soothing tone, “She’s likely to come back here if we can’t get her first. This is where one of the victims was last seen before he… you know… exploded. So, really, you’ve got the most important job.”

Your jaw clenched and you nodded, “Fine. What do I have to do then?”

“Take this,” he said, handing you a bottle with a piece of cloth working as a stopper, “Set it on fire, say this,” he handed you a scrap of paper, “And throw it at the witchy bitch.”

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” you asked, eying the bottle, “Say those words and throw this thing?”

Sam nodded, “Yep. But hopefully it won’t come to that.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “And if she doesn’t come here?”

“If she doesn’t come here, and we haven’t come back to celebrate, then go back to the motel once they close the bar. We’ll meet you there or call you or something to figure out what we’re going to do,” Dean’s hand moved to cup your cheek, “And remember what I said about the angels.”

Sam finished his beer and stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“I’ll wait in the car,” he sighed, sensing that Dean was going to get sentimental, as he made a quick retreat out of the door.

You leant into Dean’s touch, “I remember,” you told him, “And I’ll call them if I need to. But I’ll be fine, and I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” he confirmed, sealing his promise with a kiss, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you assured him, “But you should go. Sam will get pissy again.”

Dean chuckled, “Okay, I’ll get a move on then.”

You gave him one last kiss before practically pushing him to the door, assuring him that you would be fine on your own.

 

* * *

 

The time ticked by and there was no sign of the witch. You had read the incantation so many times that you had it memorised, and there were only so many times that you could turn down another beer from the barman before he was going to ask you to leave.

You checked your watch, still two hours before last call.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to ask you to leave if you don’t order anything else.”

“Whiskey,” you sighed, smiling apologetically at the man behind the bar as he poured your drink, “Sorry, I’m waiting for someone.”

“No problem, darlin’,” he smiled, handing you the glass, and you passed him a twenty – realising you hadn’t paid for the beers either.

You cradled the glass in your hands, not really wanting to drink it yet, and the guy came back with your change.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the coins and unceremoniously shoving them into your pocket.

“Not a problem,” he smiled, before leaning across the bar and whispering, “We’ve all been stood up once or twice.”

You blushed, “Oh, uh, no. I’ve not been-”

“It’s alright,” he smiled again, “I’m Tom. If he’s not turned up, I’m closing up tonight. I get off at one.”

“I’m flattered, but, um, I’ve… I’ve got a boyfriend. Fiancé, actually. And, uh, he’s not who I’m waiting for,” your fingers subconsciously found your ring and began twirling it, “But thank you.”

“Oh, sorry ma’am,” he said, coughing awkwardly, “I didn’t realise. I’ll… go.”

“No, it’s fine,” you assured him, “It was nice to meet you, Tom.”

“Likewise, uh…?”

“Oh, Y/N,” you smiled.

“Y/N,” he nodded, “You’re very pretty. Your fiancé’s a lucky guy.”

“And you’re an absolute charmer,” you told him, “Some girl is going to be lucky to have you.”

“Why, thank you!” he said, smiling again, “And I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier.”

“No, it’s fine, seriously. Here,” you pulled out a five, “Have yourself a drink on me. Better than that, drink with me.”

He laughed, “I’d love to, really, but I’m working. No drinking on the job.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t see your boss here. Just one.”

He sighed, before getting himself a drink anyway.

“Atta boy,” you smiled.

You figured you may as well try to enjoy yourself, seeing as the witch looked like a no show, and having a drink with Tom seemed to be a good way to pass the time.

 

* * *

 

“Well, I’ll be off then,” you sighed when closing time came around, “Tonight was fun, thanks for keeping me company.”

“My pleasure,” he grinned, walking you out, “Sorry your friend didn’t show.”

You shrugged, “I’m going to take it as a positive.”

He frowned at you, but you shook your head, “I wouldn’t ask.”

“I won’t then,” he smiled, “Say hello to your fiancé for me.”

“I will,” you nodded, putting your hands into your pockets, “I’ll see you if I’m ever in town again.”

 

* * *

 

The walk back to the motel was cold, but it wasn’t long, and before you knew it, you were stood outside yours and Dean’s room, about to get out the key card.

But then you heard a noise. A low, rough grunt of… pleasure. Of passion. And you’d know that noise anywhere.

You found the card and slotted it into the lock, pulling it out when the light turned green and flinging the door open.

Because that noise was Dean. That noise was Dean when he was-

“What the _fuck_?!” you shouted, seeing Dean sprawled out on your bed, naked from the waist down with some _girl_ on top of him, riding him like-

“You whore!” you screamed, “Get off of him!”

You threw yourself at her, wrestling her to the ground, unable to stop your own tears from spilling onto her face as you hit her again, and again, and again.

Dean grabbed you by the arms and flung you backwards across the room.

“What the _hell_ , Dean?” you sobbed, holding the back of your head where it had been hit on the chest of drawers, “What are you doing with _her_?”

He scoffed, “I wanted some _action_ , and she was there.”

He picked her up from the ground, and laid her down on the bed, passed out.

You felt like your heart was breaking, piece, by piece, by excruciating piece.

“Why would you do this to me?”

“You really want to know?” he asked, casually pulling on his boxers, “It’s because I was bored. You bore me, Y/N. And she was there, offering all that she offers, and I thought to myself _‘Why settle for Y/N? She can’t ever satisfy me the way that this girl can’_.”

“You don’t mean that,” you said, feeling like you were being hit in the gut with every single word.

“I do,” he promised, crouching down so that he was looking you straight in the eye when he finally broke you completely, “Because I never really loved you. You were just around all the time. An easy lay. You mean _nothing_ to me. And I can’t believe you fell for it for so long.”

“I loved you,” you spat, pulling your ring off and putting it into his shirt pocket, “I hope she makes you happy.”

You picked yourself up from the floor, grabbed your bag where it was by the door, and ran.

You ran away from the motel, from Dean, from everything you knew.

 

* * *

 

You had a cab take you back to Lawrence, costing you a small fortune but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You weren’t stupid enough to let the cab drive to the bunker, so you stopped in the town and began the long walk back.

When you got there, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into your room. Too many memories in there that you now knew were lies. So you found your car keys on a hook in the kitchen and drove yourself away, not letting yourself look back.

He clearly didn’t want you, so you wouldn’t let yourself dwell on the past, even if it was the hardest thing you’d ever had to do.

It hurt every single day, but you picked yourself and tried your hardest to move on. And at the time of your accident, it had been four months since you’d stopped wearing that ring.

 

* * *

 

You woke up in hospital with a banging headache and great confusion. The last thing you could remember was getting into your car to go to the store.

Something must have changed on your monitors, as the next thing you knew, an nurse was in your room and checking your vitals.

“It’s nice to see you awake,” he said, kindly, “How are you feeling?”

“Shit,” you grumbled, “What happened?”

“You were in a traffic collision,” he informed you, “Nothing you did. The other driver has been arrested. You’ve been out for two days, so we had to inform your next of kin.”

“No,” you wheezed, causing yourself to start coughing.

The nurse poured you a glass of water and propped up your back with more pillows.

“Thanks,” you said, offering a weak smile, “Please tell me you didn’t call him, though.”

“I’m afraid it’s protocol,” he said, looking genuinely apologetic, “Mr. Singer was informed once you hadn’t woken up after forty-eight hours.”

“Bobby,” you sighed, relieved, “Bobby’s my next of kin.”

“Is that alright? We can call someone else-”

“No,” you insisted, “No that’s fine. I thought someone else was on the forms but Bobby is good. Bobby is good.”

The sense of relief flowing through you, knowing that Dean hadn’t been notified, caused you to feel tired again, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

“Get some rest,” the nurse told you, “You’re still recovering. We’ll wake you if anything changes.”

 

* * *

 

The next time you woke up, it was due to the sound of someone entering your room.

Your eyes blinked open, expecting to see the nurse from earlier, but instead, Sam Winchester was stood at the end of your bed.

“What…?” you began, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Bobby called me,” he explained, “Said you’ve been in an accident and that someone needed to come here.”

“Dean?” you asked, not knowing what answer you wanted to hear.

“He’s… he’s here. In the family waiting room,” Sam sighed and made his way round to the side of your bed to take your hand, “He really needs to talk to you. He’s been trying to find you for months.”

“Why?” you questioned, croakily, “He made himself pretty clear.”

“He didn’t-” Sam stopped himself before he continued, “You really need to hear it from him. But he loves you, Y/N. He always has.”

You felt tears begin to form in your eyes and Sam brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

“I’m going to get him, if that’s alright with you?”

You nodded, a single tear rolling down your cheek at the memory of the last time you saw your ex-boyfriend, ex-fiancé, ex- _everything_.

 

* * *

 

“Y/N,” Dean breathed, rushing to your side as soon as he stepped into the room, “Oh, God, are you okay? This is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I love you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

His hands were on your face, touching your bruised cheeks lightly as he checked you over.

“What’s happening?” you asked quietly, sniffing a little, “Why are you here?”

“I tried to find you,” he told you resting his forehead to yours, “It was a hex bag. The witch. She planted one on me, and it made me- oh, God,” he shook his head, crinkling your forehead as he did, “It made me… do _that_ … and say those things. And I didn’t mean it, not at all.”

He was crying now, tears dripping down onto your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he sniffed, “I wish it hadn’t ever happened. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. These last four months have been so bad, so bad. I can’t imagine how it was for you. I’m so sorry I put you through that.”

You were crying too as he pulled away, fumbling about in his pocket for something.

He held your hand and put something into your palm.

“I hope,” he said, clearing his throat before he continued, “I hope you can forgive me. And maybe wear this again.”

You felt the cool metal in your palm, recognising instantly that it was your engagement ring.

“Dean,” you breathed, feeling your heart leap again, “Dean, I don’t know what to say.”

“I know,” he nodded, “I know. It’s a lot to take in. But you have to know that I never meant to do any of it. It was me, but it wasn’t _me_. Please say you believe me. Please.”

You nodded, tears still running down your face as you slipped the ring back on your finger.

“I love you,” he breathed, leaning down and kissing you lightly, “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied, kissing him again.

You didn’t really understand what had happened. You knew what he was saying made sense, and you were grateful for an explanation for that terrible day at last.

But more than anything, you loved him, and you couldn’t be more relieved that he was there, that he cared, and that he _loved you too_.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm Jamie. I rarely post on here, but I have a pretty active tumblr account (http://teamfreewill-imagine.tumblr.com/) where I post fics and imagines!  
> Thanks for reading.  
> All work is non beta'd, feedback appreciated :)


End file.
